


The Maid Of Tarth

by PrincessFabala



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, First Time, Fluff, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Post-Canon, Smut, Wedding Night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-25
Updated: 2018-04-25
Packaged: 2019-04-27 20:12:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14433216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrincessFabala/pseuds/PrincessFabala
Summary: After all they've suffered, Brienne and Jaime somehow reach their wedding night. But Brienne has some illusions that Jaime must strip her of...Optimistic post-canon smut, in which Brienne is insecure and misguided about sex. Jaime teaches her.





	The Maid Of Tarth

**Author's Note:**

> Hi,  
> So this is my first time posting to AO3, and the first time I've published fanfic in forever, so I'm still getting the hang of tags and stuff. It's basically porn with a tiny bit of plot and a lot of angst and fluffy feels. Hope you enjoy.

They were here. Against all their wildest hopes and possibilities, against all reason and chance, they were here. They were husband and wife at last. They’d been on opposite sides, with entire kingdoms separating them for so long. But here they were, at their wedding feast, with winter at an end. 

They’d dressed Brienne in a gown of ivory, the skirt unadorned, the bodice embroidered with the sun and moon of House Tarth. Each pace she took looked unsteady, and her cheeks were red from discomfort, either due to the tight lacing of her gown or the awkward exposure it made her feel. Jaime knew they’d done it to try to impress him, to make his new wife look beautiful and feminine. They were intimidated by his name, though in truth, he had no family, armies or wealth left for them to be intimidated by. The abuse they had put her through for this day made him intensely angry, but as a husband, and a man, he had little say over what his bride wore on this day.

She had not enjoyed the day, he knew. It wounded him, that the woman he loved had not enjoyed her wedding day, but he accepted it was not truly his fault. The attention she had received today, emphasising her womanhood had made her uncomfortable, not to mention the full, white dress. He almost regretted asking for her hand, for all the misery he had brought her today. Still, he thought with a smug smile, he intended to make it up to her later. 

Seeing Brienne picking at her food, eyes fixed firmly in her lap, he decided to put an end to this dreadful day.  
“I believe, my lord, it is time for the bedding,” he said to his new father-in-law, seated to his left. There was a murmur from the small crowd gathered below at the mention of bedding. One man even stood up, but the filthy glare Jaime shot him forced him back into his seat.  
“If anyone dares touch her, I’ll kill them,” he said, whispering venomously to his new father-in-law as he rose. Brienne stood too, begrudgingly following her new husband obediently from the hall as countless beautiful young maidens had before her. 

***

They walked to their new, shared chambers in silence, Brienne shuffling a few paces behind Jaime. She entered the room, and no sooner had the door shut than she was fumbling at the laces that held her ridiculous gown together.  
“I’m sorry,” he said, offering his left hand to help with the tight laces. “When I asked you to wed me, today wasn’t quite what I imagined.”  
“This was precisely what I thought of when I consented,” she said anyway, pulling out the net of beads they’d pinned over her short hair. She’d been dreading her wedding day for far longer than she’d known Jaime, but she was almost through it.  
“And you consented anyway? You must adore me,” he said cockily. She rolled her eyes at him.  
“It’s done now,” she said, almost to herself. She allowed her dress to drop to the floor, and set about removing her uncomfortable-looking, impractical shoes. 

She stood before him in her shift. He lifted his hand to her cheek, pulling her face to his in a deep, loving kiss. He hoped it would lift her, but when he pulled away, he saw no change in her spirit. She seemed resigned to everything the day had brought. And would yet bring. 

Then she did something unexpected. She dropped her smallclothes, and went to the bed, lying with her face almost buried in the pillows.  
“Get on with it, Jaime,” she said. Her words were muffled by the pillows, but that wasn’t what confused him. He relieved himself of the heavy leather coat he wore and went to her.  
“Brienne? What’s wrong?”  
He was met with stony silence.  
“Brienne? I’m sorry for what they, for what I put you through today. But we’re alone now,” he said, putting his hand gently on her back. Her skin was warm beneath her shift.  
“I’m not afraid, Jaime. Just do it, please.”  
“You’re a terrible liar,” he replied. “What are you afraid of?”  
She lifted her face from the pillows, and turned to lie on her front, facing him. But she did not speak. 

His hand brushed her shoulder, in an attempt at comfort.  
“Brienne, you don’t need to be afraid of me. But I won’t touch you like this. I won’t rape you,” he said firmly. “I’d like to believe I’m better than that. And I’m only better than it because of you.”  
“It’s not rape if I let you do it,” she grumbled, plunging her face back into the pillows.  
“It is if you don’t want it, Brienne, if you don’t enjoy it.”  
“Women aren’t supposed to enjoy it. Only whores do,” she retorted.  
“Who taught you that?” he snapped, suddenly irate. Not at her, but at all the people, on Tarth and further afield, who had damaged her. Set the limits of what she could be and how she failed at being that. It was their fault that she so despised attention and despised herself.  
“My septa,” she murmured.  
“What do septas know about the things that go on in marriage beds? Shrivelled cunts,” he spat. “Let me show you, please Brienne. You don’t have to be afraid,” he said, pleading with her.  
“Fine. Show me,” she snapped, frustrated. But Jaime’s cock hadn’t so much as twitched. This was wrong, and he wouldn’t touch her until he figured out why.  
“Why don’t you turn around?” he suggested. “And tell me what exactly is wrong? I know you’ve been uncomfortable all day, but we’re alone now. It’s not the bedding you’re afraid of, is it?” 

Brienne did not move.  
“My septa said my husband would rather do it this way, because of my size, and looks,” she said, relenting a little.  
“And you believe that of me?” Jaime replied, wounded by her lack of belief in him. She believed him akin to other men, who only saw her as a misfit. Who saw only the differences between her and other women and were merciless about it. He tried not to blame her for retreating into herself after all the events of the day, but that didn’t stop it from hurting.

She turned around finally, curled on her side, facing him.  
“No,” she said eventually. The single word allowed Jaime to let go the breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. “I don’t think I was meant for marriage, Jaime.”  
“It’s a little late for that, don’t you think?” he said, unable to resist teasing her.  
“I don’t think I was meant to be a wife, or a mother,” she continued, ignoring him.  
Jaime took a deep breath.  
“Brienne, I don’t know what you think I expect of you, but I assure you, today changes nothing between us. I still love you, the way you are. We don’t have to be like husband and wife, if that’s not what you want. I don’t expect anything of you,” he said, seeking her eyes with his. They were innocent blue orbs, wide with fear. He steadied his breathing again. 

“I suppose I know that Jaime. I’m not afraid of you. I just wasn’t sure what to expect, what you’d expect of your wife,” she murmured.  
“I don’t expect anything of you, Brienne. Except that next time, you tell me what’s wrong, instead of torturing yourself.”  
He took her hand, pressing a soft kiss to each of her fingertips. She smiled weakly up at him, ocean-blue eyes holding back tears.  
“I love you, Brienne, and I thought tonight, and today, would be a chance for me to show you. I’m sorry I didn’t realise how you felt,” he confessed, hanging his head.  
“There’s still time,” she said after a long silence. “I think I’m as ready today as I’ll ever be. So, show me.”  
“Are you sure?” he breathed, hardly daring to hope. 

She nodded, and he needed no further invitation. She shifted onto her back, and he straddled her, leaning down to press kisses to her lips and jaw. He wanted to teach her that she was beautiful and strong and loved. And he wanted to tell her that she could be all the things she was as well as a woman. 

His fingers brushed over her face, pushing her soft blonde hair from her forehead. He pressed kisses there too. Brienne’s exploratory touches were nervous, but sweet, and Jaime felt his cock stir as he kissed his beautiful wife.  
“Tell me if you want me to stop,” he mumbled. It might be almost impossible for him to stop worshipping this woman, but the instant she stopped wanting it, he knew he would have to tear himself away. He pressed gentle kisses to each piece of exposed skin, trying to communicate so much with each gentle touch.

Jaime’s fingers next went to her teats, cupping one over her shift and flicking a rapidly hardening nipple with his thumb. He smiled at Brienne’s gasp. He marvelled that she had never known this kind of pleasure before. 

He shifted himself into a kneeling position, pushing her shift up her thighs. He paused before he reached her slit.  
“May I?” he murmured, hearing his desire in his voice.  
She was quiet for a moment.  
“Can I see you first?” she asked nervously, her voice almost inaudible.  
Jaime smirked, and shrugged obligingly out of his shirt and undershirt, exposing the bare, scarred chest beneath. The chiselled muscle he’d had in his youth had wasted in his year as Robb Stark’s prisoner, but he was still handsome, and he certainly knew it. 

Brienne’s breath hitched as she raised her hand to touch his chest. Her fingers were warm, and her touch was light. Jaime continued his worship of her, kissing her deeply and brushing his remaining fingers over her stomach and chest. He was desperate for her, but not yet. His fingers went again to her shift, lifting slowly to expose her naked form to him. He took in her wide hips and modest teats, which he had seen once before. She had seemed so formidable that day – fierce and beautiful and strong, despite all that had befallen her. In the same position, he had become a pathetic mess. 

He trailed kisses from her jaw to her teats, taking her hardened nipple into his mouth and sucking it, eliciting a moan from Brienne’s lips. She would ordinarily have been mortified to make such a sound. He smirked a little at the thought and continued his trail of kisses down to the thatch of curls at her slit. She bucked her hips involuntarily toward the sensation, and Jaime responded with sweet kisses to her most intimate place, her sighs and moans making his cock even more desperate to be inside her. 

He made sure to keep raising his eyes to hers, checking for any sign of her discomfort, but she was lost to the bliss he’d always imagined her in on this night. He flicked his tongue inside her and felt himself grinning stupidly at her reaction. He’d waited for this day for so long – waited for this chance to show her how much he adored her. And he hadn’t even noticed that she had approached the day with so much apprehension. 

He continued his ministrations with greater fervour, determined to make up for his earlier blindness. He slipped a finger inside her, feeling her wetness. She quieted for a moment, her chest heaving. He moved up to kiss her deeply and she tasted her own wetness on his lips. Was this what it was supposed to feel like? If it was, why were women taught to fear their marriage beds? She heard herself cry out as he flexed a finger inside her. She felt each tiny movement, and it was so different to anything she had experienced before.

Each gasp and moan that escaped her lips made his cock strain harder against his breeches. This was different to anything he had experienced before. Each time with Cersei was brief, hushed, forbidden. But this time, he could hold his sweet wife into the night. He could hold her every night for the rest of his life. And that made him the luckiest man alive. 

***

Her screams and moans got louder as he added a second finger. He made sure to be gentle, made sure that she would enjoy the very thing she’d been dreading. And those were the thoughts that filled his head as he brought her to her peak. He heard his name on her lips among her cries, and swore he almost peaked himself without his cock even touching her. 

He kissed her softly as she returned to reality and held her warm body to his. They lay in silence for a long time – the only movement was the heaving of Brienne’s chest.  
“I love you,” Jaime whispered. A crooked smile spread across her face.  
“Jaime,” she murmured back. There was so much power in the way she said his name. “That wasn’t -wasn’t what I expected, but you, your-“  
Her eyes indicated his untouched breeches, and Jaime smiled at her innocence.  
“Another night perhaps. You’ve had a long day.”  
“I’m not afraid of the pain. Not anymore,” she said, her unyielding eyes boring deep into his.  
“And I won’t hurt you,” Jaime protested. “I can finish myself off, don’t worry.”  
“Jaime,” she begged, her voice like a prayer.  
“Shush, my sweet wife,” he smiled. “Sleep. We have the rest of our lives for this.”  
She returned him a genuine sleepy smile and curled up into her pillow. Jaime could tell she was asleep before he even sat up to take care of his own pressing need. 

***

Jaime awoke the next morning with his wife still asleep in his arms. His head was buried awkwardly in her neck and his cock was… well fuck. He tried to disentangle himself from his wife, not wanting to wake her, or scare her with his morning hardness. But, he supposed, if every morning was going to be like this, she would have to get used to it. 

He froze when she grunted his name, driving her hips back into his cock. Gods, this woman would be the death of him! After her confession last night, he was certain it wasn’t deliberate, but that didn’t stop him wanting her so much that it hurt. She moaned his name again, turning to face him. He kissed her chastely on the lips and her eyes fluttered open. Even half-asleep, her blue eyes were beautiful and piercing.  
“Wife,” he grinned stupidly. He would enjoy waking up to that word every morning for as long as they both lived.  
“Husband,” she replied, reaching lazily to pull him closer to her. His aching cock was pushed against her thigh, and he was sure she could feel it under the sheets. It was only then that he registered that they were both still naked after the previous night’s activities. Brienne must have realized the same thing just an instant later, as she flushed a deep shade of red. She opened her mouth, no doubt to make some shocked remark, but Jaime covered it with his lips before she could say anything. 

He deepened the kiss, devouring her lips before she really had a chance to stop him. He had been so gentle last night, and he needed her so desperately. He needed to claim her as his own. She drew back to breathe, and he moved down to claim her throat.  
“Jaime, stop,” she said breathlessly. Pulling himself away was one of the hardest things he’d ever done, but he forced himself to shuffle away from her as soon as the words left her lips. “Someone will come soon.”

Seven fucking hells, this woman would be the death of him. He’d thought she didn’t want this. Or perhaps that he was being too rough with her.  
“It’s our wedding night, wench. No-one will come,” he growled, latching his mouth back to her throat. “And if they do come, they’ll see that we’re doing the right thing.”  
Jaime saw his wife blush and squirm beside him. Sometimes he forgot, with all she’d been through and all she was, that inside her was an innocent young maiden. He kissed her again. She melted into him, and for the first time began to kiss him back. For the first time, it became a beautiful battle, a fight for control, like when they sparred with real swords. 

He smirked a little when she pulled away for air. This was a battle he was still able to win, but for how long exactly? She was learning. He trailed kisses down her body, cupping at her breast with his fingers, taking her hardening nipple in his mouth. Her touches were bolder than the previous night. One arm wrapped around his back, her formidable strength pulling him close to her. Her other hand roamed his body, fisting in his hair, trailing the scars on his chest, then lower. 

He gasped when she brushed his hard cock for the first time. He was sure it was an accident, that she didn’t mean to, but it felt fucking amazing.  
“Sorry,” she murmured, shrinking back. “I didn’t mean to-“  
“No,” he whispered back, quieting her. He took her hand, guiding it to his hard cock. She didn’t need to fear it. Her fingers ghosted the sensitive skin, uncertain, tentative, but no longer afraid. Jaime revelled in her explorations for a moment before turning his attention back to her body. His fingers brushed her sensitive nub, making her groan before slipping one finger carefully inside her. These weren’t the lazy explorations of the previous night.  
“Fuck. Brienne. I need- need…” his words trailed away, lost in her moans. He slipped another finger inside her, stretching her tight, wet entrance. She was as ready as she was going to get.  
“Are you ready, my love? Are you sure?” he mumbled, peppering her body with kisses. He could hear his own selfish desire in his voice and her breathing, loud and heavy.  
“Will it feel like last time?” she breathed nervously, her voice barely audible.  
There was no holding back his smirk, or the arrogant promise that followed.  
“Better.”  
With his single word, the fires he adored returned to her ocean eyes. She nodded with a fierce determination, as if she were about to charge into battle. One day, he would see his own selfish desire reflected back to him in those eyes, he would make sure of it. Then it would be a battle. 

He pressed his cock against her, giving her a moment to prepare herself. Slowly, he entered her, waiting for her to moan or gasp with pain. But this was his warrior woman. The only sign of her discomfort was the grimace on her face. Gods she was stubborn, and she hated for anyone to see her weakness. Even her own damned husband on her wedding night. 

He moved slowly until he was fully sheathed inside her. He brushed a loose strand of her hair from her face and kissed her gently. He reminded himself that this wasn’t about him. It didn’t matter how desperate he was to fuck her hard and fast. She had been so afraid of this, for so long, and he needed to show her how to enjoy it. 

He was still, kissing her chastely until his desire became unbearable. Slowly, he pulled out and pressed in again.  
“Tell me if it hurts, my love.”  
“It’s not- it doesn’t… It’s not what I expected,” she stuttered.  
“I know,” Jaime said softly, stretching to kiss her deeply. “I love you.”  
His mouth trailed down to suck her nipple, worshipping her teats as he began to move inside her again, beginning at an agonizingly slow pace. Her hands roamed his back, lower and lower, until one hand cupped his bare arse.  
“Fuck,” he groaned, pressing harder into her. He hoped he hadn’t hurt her, but she had caught him unawares. She smiled, so innocently, clearly pleased with herself. He responded to this challenge with a faster pace, bringing his fingers to the place between her legs that had made her scream so loudly last night. 

Her gasps turned into moans, matching his grunts. Her cunt was so tight, and he was so close already. How long had it been since he had been with a woman? No. He wouldn’t think about that now. All that mattered was here, beneath him, her face flushed with her desperate need for satisfaction. His pace became punishing, but her moans were still those of pleasure, and he knew she was close. So close. His fingers circled her sensitive spot and his mouth worked at her nipples. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head, and her screams were loud enough to wake the whole damn castle. 

But it didn’t matter. They were man and wife, heirs to Tarth, and she could scream as loud as she fucking liked as her husband claimed her maidhood. She screamed his name at her peak, and he claimed her lips and her throat as he approached his own. He felt his balls tighten as her cunt closed around him.  
“Bri-“ he moaned as he spilled into her, kissing her hard. He noticed for the first time how hard he was panting, reminding him that he was not a young man. But she was panting too, with her first experience of true lust. The Maid of Tarth, he grinned, was no more. 

“Thank you, Jaime,” she muttered, once she could speak again.  
“You don’t have to-“ he said, but she cut him off.  
“All those years in army camps, and no-one ever told me of a woman’s pleasure,” she marvelled, meeting his eyes.  
“Most men don’t care,” he explained simply, rolling off her. He pulled her close to him, pressing his lips softly to hers. “It won’t always be like that. There won’t be so much pain.”  
“I’ve had worse,” she retorted. “It wasn’t nearly as bad as I expected.”  
Jaime silently praised himself for his restraint, but he laughed.  
“Damned wench, you’ve fought bloody White Walkers. What were you expecting?”  
Brienne smiled too, at her own foolishness.  
“I love you, Jaime.”  
“I love you too, my beautiful wench.”


End file.
